from the house of david, joseph skulked down the terraces until he came to the two long buildings and entered the smaller of these. he crossed a patio, smaller than the court of david's house; but there, too, was the fountain in the center and the cool flooring of turf. across this, and running under the dimly lighted arcade, joseph reached a door which he tore open, slammed behind him again, and with his great head fallen upon his chest, stared at a little withered negro who sat on a stool opposite the door. it was rather a low bench of wood than a stool; for it stood not more than six inches above the level of the floor. his shoes off, and his bare feet tucked under his legs, he sat tailorwise and peered up at the giant. the sudden opening of the door had set his loose blouse fluttering about the old man's skeleton body. the sleeves fell back from bony forearms with puckered skin. he was less a man than a receptacle of time. his temples sank in like the temples of a very old horse; his toothless mouth was crushed together by the pressure of the long bony jaw, below which the skin hung in a flap. but the fire still glimmered in the hollows of his eyes. a cheerful spirit lived in the grasshopper body. he was knitting with a pair of slender needles, never looking at his work, nor during the interview with joseph did he once slacken his pace. the needles clicked with such swift precision that the work grew perceptibly, flowing slowly under his hands.
meanwhile this death's head looked at the giant so steadily that joseph seemed to regret his unceremonious entrance. he stood back against the door, fumbling its knob for a moment, but then his rage mastered him once more, and he burst into the tale of connor's coming and the ivory head. he brought his story to an end by depositing the trinket before the ancient man and then stood back, his face still working, and waited with every show of confident curiosity.
as for the antique, his knitting needles continued to fly, but to view the little carving more closely he craned his skinny neck. at that moment, with his fallen features, his fleshless nose, he was a grinning mummy head. he remained gloating over the little image so long that joseph stirred uneasily; but finally the grotesque lifted his head. it at once fell far back, the neck muscles apparently unable to support its weight. he looked more at the ceiling than at joseph. his speech was a writhing of the lips and the voice a hollow murmur.
"this," he said, "is the face of a great suhman. it is the face of the great suhman, haneemar. it was many years ago that i knew him. it was a time so long ago that i do not know how to tell you. it was before your birth and the birth of your father. it was when i lived in a green country where the air is thick and sweet and the sun burns. there i knew haneemar. he is a strong suhman. you see, his eyes are green; that is because he has the strength of the great snake that ties its tail around a branch and hangs down with its head as high as the breast of a man. those snakes kill an antelope and eat it at a mouthful. their eyes are green and so are the eyes of haneemar. and you see that haneemar has golden teeth. that is because he has eaten wisdom. he knows the meat of all things like a nut he can crack between his teeth. he is as strong as the snake which eats monkeys, and he is as wise as the monkeys that run from the snake and throw sticks from the tops of the trees. that is haneemar.
"there is no luck for the man who carries the face of haneemar with him. that is why david used the whip. he knew haneemar. also, in the other days i remember that when a child was sick in the village they tied a goat in the forest and haneemar came and ate the goat. if he ate the goat like a lion and left tooth marks on the bones then the child got well and lived. if he ate the goat like a panther and left the guts the child died. but if the goat was not eaten for one day then haneemar came and ate the child instead. i remember this. there will be no luck for you while you carry haneemar."
the big man had heard this speech with eyes that grew rounder and rounder. now he caught up the little image and raised his arm to throw it through the window. but the old man hissed, and joseph turned with a shudder.
"you cannot throw haneemar away," said the other. "only when some one takes him freely will you be rid of him."
"it is true," answered joseph. "i remember the visitor would not take him back."
"then," said the old sage, "if the stranger will not take him back, bad luck has come into the garden, for only the stranger would carry haneemar out again. but do not give haneemar to one of our friends, for then he will stay with us all. if you dig a deep hole and bury him in it, haneemar may not be able to get out."
joseph was beginning to swell with wrath.
"the stranger has put a curse on me," he said. "abraham, what shall i do to him? teach me a curse to put on him!"
"hush!" answered abraham. "those who pray to evil spirits are the slaves of the powers they pray to."
"then i shall take this benjamin in my hands!"
he made a gesture as though he were snapping a stick of dry wood.
"you are the greater fool. is not this benjamin, this stranger, a guest of the master?"
"i shall steal him away by night in such a manner that he shall not make even the noise of a mouse when the cat breaks its back. i shall steal him away and david will never know."
the loose eyelids of the old man puckered and his glance became a ray of light.
"the curse already works; haneemar already is in your mind, joseph. david will not know? child, there is nothing that he does not know. he uses us. we are his tools. my mind is to him as my hand is to me. he comes inside my eyes; he knows what i think. and if old abraham is nothing before david, what is joseph? hush! let not a whisper go out! do not even dare to think it. you have felt the whip of david, but you have not felt his hand when he is in anger. a wounded mountain lion is not so terrible as the rage of david; he would be to you as an ax at the root of a sapling. these things have happened before. i remember. did not boram once anger john? and was not boram as great as joseph? and did not john take boram in his hands and conquer him and break him? yes, and david is a greater body and a stronger hand than john. also, his anger is as free as the running of an untaught colt. remember, my son!"
joseph stretched out his enormous arms and his voice was a broken wail.
"oh, abraham, abraham, what shall i do?"
"wait," said the old man quietly. "for waiting makes the spirit strong. look at abraham! his body has been dead these twenty years, but still his spirit lives."
"but the curse of haneemar, abraham?"
"haneemar is patient. let joseph be patient also."
